


Out of the Warren

by SparkleDragons



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Sleep Deprivation, Touch-Starved, cuddle piles, or just as them as friends, tbh it's up to the reader, this is mostly an excuse to talk about my head canons about gnomes, you can take mousy gnomes from my cold dead hands, you could read this as davenchurch if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleDragons/pseuds/SparkleDragons
Summary: Gnomes have big families. Everyone lives in a single burrow made much further in the past than any relatives can remember. Everyone sleeps in the same room of the warren. The room is filled with pillows and blankets and it’s soft, warm, and familiar. It’s what Davenport’s going to miss horribly for the two months he’s captaining the Starblaster.





	1. Chapter 1

Gnomes have big families. Everyone lives together and if someone leaves they usually come back when they have kids. It’s just how things are. On top of his parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and great great grandparents, Davenport has five siblings, twelve aunts and uncles, eighteen cousins, and twenty other extended family members. A gnome’s family is more like a small community than anything. Everyone lives in a single burrow made much further in the past than any relatives can remember. Everyone sleeps in the same room of the warren. The room is filled with pillows and blankets and it’s soft, warm, and familiar. It’s what Davenport misses most when he has to be away from home with the IPRE. It’s what he’s going to miss horribly for the two months he’s captaining the Starblaster.

 

The night before they take off Davenport leaves the bar early. He was never one for late nights on the town and besides, he needs to get home. The Davenport family warren is located in the forest outside the city. It’s a bit of a travel so Davenport usually stays at the IPRE over the week, returning only for the weekends. 

 

His older brother, Terry has been working at the IPRE longer than he’s been around. He’s a part of the head council, something he always liked to playfully lord over Davenport. When Davenport was a kid he always insisted on going to work with Terry at least once a week. Nothing made him happier than learning tidbits of info about the worlds beyond their own when he went. It was only natural for him to train for a field position when he was old enough.

 

Tarry and he shares a room. It’s nowhere near what it’s like sleeping in the burrow but it’s something. They own three fantasy electric blankets to help make up for the lack of other body heat, but it’s a necessary sacrifice of the job. 

 

Tonight’s different, though. Tomorrow he’s leaving and he won’t be back for two months. Terry won’t be going with him and he’ll be sleeping alone. When he thinks about it it sounds like such a terribly long time without being able to curl up next to someone and soak in their warmth. Sacrifices. If he wants to see the stars he has to make sacrifices.

 

When Davenport gets home to the warren he’s greeted by his mother.

 

“Hi, Starport,” she says, hugging him. “Have a good time with your crew?” 

 

“Hi, Mother,” Davenport replies, hugging her tight. He’s not going to see her again for months after tonight. “It was fine. They’re-they’re an interesting bunch. All-uh. All highly qualified, but-uh-but-uh interesting.”

 

His mother hums a bit to herself and pats his shoulder. “Go get ready for bed, dear. Everyone but the little ones are waiting for you.”

 

“M-mother…” Davenport complains and half-heartedly pushes her hand away. “I-I’m sixty years old. I can take care of myself. You all didn’t need to wait.”

 

“We wanted to, Dewdrop. You’re going to be gone so long,” she runs a hand through his hair, letting her thumb brush his mustache and whiskers within. It makes his nose and lip twitch. She snickers a bit at that. “Go get out of that uniform. Mini is insisting on staying up until you come in.”

 

“Alright. For Milly I’ll-I’ll get ready quick.”

 

That seems to satisfy his mother and she lets him be to make her own way to the nest. Her tail swishes lazily behind her, twitching every so often. It’s an open invite for him to follow when ready.

 

Davenport lets out a long sigh and goes to the warren’s wardrobe. He doesn’t have much in here now. Most of it’s packed and ready to go on the Starblaster. He finds a long t-shirt and some shorts he can pull on, though. His uniform he leaves carefully folded on the median table in the closet.

 

He sighs and rubs a thumb over the IPRE patch, emblazoned with his name. Davenport had opted to leave out his favorite nickname. Drewdrop didn’t exactly give of the sort of captain’s authority he wanted. Drew Davenport was just fine on it’s own, he supposed. It just didn’t feel like home quite as much.

 

Davenport pads through the warren leisurely. The hardwood floors stick to his bare feet in a way he always misses when he’s at the IPRE. His hand runs along the walls where they aren’t covered with hung paintings of the clan. He knows the corner that leads to the nest when he reaches it. Just inside he can hear the distinct sounds of quite whispers, heavy breathing, and moving fabric.

 

Davenport lets out a long, happy sigh and pushes away the fabric drapes to enter the nest. Inside is warm from so many sleeping bodies and his feet immediately touch soft fabric.

 

“DEW!” The little form of Milly scrambles to release herself from the tangle of blankets lining the nest and runs to tackle Davenport in a hug. Her shouting and movement prompts a few complaints, especially from anyone with a sleeping kid.

 

“Hey, Mimi,” Davenport whispers. He picks her up and props her little body on his hip. Her tail swishes excitedly in the dark under her nightgown. He’s pretty sure she hits a few faces as he carries her to an open space in the den.

 

“You’re going ta spaaace,” she tries to whisper when he plops her down on a pillow. Her voice is far over a whisper, only succeeding in speaking in a more breathy tone than usual.

 

“S-sure am, Lilly-pea,” Davenport says. He settles down to curl up in the blankets himself. It’s soft and so, so comfortable.

 

“Bring me something?” She grabs his hand and is staring at him with eyes the size of moons. She looks so fascinated Davenport can’t help but chuckle a bit.

 

“Mini, what do we say?” comes the mumbling voice of one of Davenport’s aunts and Milly’s mother. She sounds tiered.

 

Milly whips her head in the direction of her mother before turning back and, with eyes even bigger than before says, “Pleeeeaaase?” Her whiskers are twitching with an excitement that’s going to make getting her to actually sleep a certain challenge.

 

Davenport smiles and ruffles her hair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Yesss,” Milly says. She celebrates her small victory by grabbing a blanket and pulling it up over herself.

 

Davenport strokes Milly’s head until her breathing deepens and she falls asleep. Once she’s out, he settles himself into the soft warmth of the nest and falls into what he thinks will probably be his last truly comfortable sleep for the next few months.

 

~~~~~

 

He should have known. He should have seen the storm. He should have said something when he left the burrow and noticed how the forest was so quiet and not green enough. He should have stopped and taken one second to think of the world outside their mission. Now it’s to late.

 

When the bond engines kicked on the crew cheered. Breaking the barrier between planes filled Davenport with pride he’d waited for since he proposed this venture. It’s short lived.

 

He stares at the monstrosity before him, before his ship. He’s transfixed by the swirls of colors dancing on the surface of the black plane. For a moment, he considers it beautiful. Then the tendrils appear. Long black tentacles of living darkness reach past the ship and into the prime material plane. He hears someone scream, and the illusion breaks.

 

It’s attacking them. It’s attacking his home.

 

“Shit,” Davenport says and he grabs the inter-planer communicator set in the ship’s main panel. “Hello. Hello! This is Captain Drew Davenport! We’ve encountered a-a… I don’t know. It’s attacking the prime material plane and it’s-it’s fucking big, guys. Over.”

 

His crew goes silent, waiting for a response. Static.

 

“HELLO! Captain Drew Davenport asking for confirmation! Over.”

 

Still no response. Panic spikes through Davenport’s heart. No. No no no no. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not today. With every second more of those inky pillars dive into the prime material plane, getting more ferocious with every new probe. The opalescent plane is getting closer to their home, descending with a steady pace that sends chills through Davenport’s bones. 

 

“Please! I-I need.  _ We _ need a response. T-Terry? You there Terrier? P-Please. Over…”

 

Nothing. He might as well be talking to a piece of wood. The rest of the crew is panicking too. The twins are grabbing at each other, holding each other close, staring wide eyed at the demonic storm descending over their home. Magnus is shouting aimlessly and banging on the window, begging to be allowed to do something. Barry is pale, all the blood drained from his face as he watches motionless. Lucretia is sobbing and screaming about her parents. Merle is staring out the window wide-eyed and terrified, muttering a desperate prayer under his breath.

 

Davenport stares at their home. The darkness is starting to spread over it, slowly sliding across it’s surface and plunging it into the darkest black he’s ever seen. He thinks of his family, how they waved him off at launch, how Milly was bouncing up and down and pointing at everything, how his mother hugged him tight and wished him safe travels. He thinks of how his great uncle Martin never trusted the science of the IPRE, how his grandfather laughed when Davenport told him how Lup lit the testing area on fire during the physical phase of the testing, how his older sister always told him he and Terry were crazy for wanting to go out into the stars. He thinks of all of them and he’s angry.

 

This was supposed to be the best day of his life, not the day he lost everything. He’s angry and he’s terrified and he wants nothing more than to fly directly into this living plane and rip it apart himself for threatening his family, his home, but he can’t. There’s nothing he or anyone on this fucking ship can do.

 

“We’re getting out of here,” he declares monotoned. He pulls on an air of numbness, it’s the only way to keep the burning rage off his face.

 

His declaration is met with cries of outrage from the crew. They tell him how they can’t run away. They have families down there, they say. They have to protect their world, they say. They have to do something. Taako and Lup are the only ones not saying anything. They’re still clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it, eyes wide and pupils dilated to slits.

 

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” Davenport shouts at them. They flinch away from his outbreak. He takes a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “We can’t help anyone if we’re dead. We’re getting out of here. Now.”

 

His tone leaves no room for argument. The rest of the crew just turns to look out the window at the destruction below them as Davenport maneuvers through the storm and out the other side.

 

~~~~~

 

By the time Davenport gets the ship into orbit over the strange planet he feels dead on his feet. He’s so tired and the crash from the lack of adrenaline in his system makes his head spin every time he moves. The rest of the crew haven’t been faring much better. He hears crying from some of the rooms every so often. He doesn’t know what to say. No one does. Sometimes someone wanders onto the bridge to look out the viewing window at the green world below. He hasn’t seen the twins, Lucretia, or Merle since the world went… wobbly. They went to their rooms and haven’t come out.

 

Davenport sags against the wheel. He needs to sleep. He isn’t sure how long he’s been awake but it’s been a long time. He can’t, though. Thinking of sleep makes him think of his family. He tried to go to his room once. Seeing his bed of blankets and pillows piled in the corner made him feel sick. He hasn’t been back there since.

 

~~~~~

 

“Captain are you alright?” Davenport turns to see Lucretia huddled at the door to the bridge. She doesn’t look like she’s changed out of her robes since the first day. Her arms are wrapped around a book and she just looks so tired.

 

“Lucretia…” he says, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. “Uh-y-yeah. I’m-I’m good. Just tiered is all.”

 

Lucretia hums in agreement. “Pardon me if this is out of line, captain, but… Perhaps you should get some rest? Barry could keep an eye on things for a while. He told me he got training on flying the Starblaster.”

 

Davenport immediately shakes his head, sending a wave of dizziness through his body. “N-no. I-I’m alright. Thank you, Lucretia, but I don’t think sleeping would help much.”

 

Lucretia nods and leaves the room without another word. Davenport watches her feet dragging on the floor as she walks away. He wishes there was something he could do.

 

Two days later Barry finds Davenport sleeping draped across the wheel.

 

~~~~~

 

Traveling with Merle on the strange new planet proves to be a decent distraction. He’s a good man, if a tad immature at times.

 

Sleeping on the road is a nightmare, so Davenport ends up taking watch more often than not. The one saving grace of traveling with someone is when Davenport finally gives in to sleep every few days he at least has the luxury of listening to another’s breathing. Being near one other individual and lacking the warmth and comfort of an actual nest doesn’t help, but it’s something.

 

Merle doesn’t directly comment on the lack of sleep Davenport’s getting, which he appreciates.  His sleep-deprived body appreciates when Merle insists on taking watch. Neither of them mention Merle’s occasional spell usage to help Davenport rest. It works, and that’s what matters.

 

Merle starts calling him ‘Cap’n’port’ at some point. It both makes Davenport smile and fills his heart with heavy longing. Nicknames were so important to his culture that was destroyed when they left their home to die. Now he’s not sure if he wants another reminder of what he’s lost. He decides to let it stay for now.

 

When they return to the Starblaster and the rest of the crew starts calling him that, he still doesn’t say anything. It’s unprofessional. He should reinforce his authority, but some part of him enjoys it.

 

He’s still not sleeping. If the crew notices his bloodshot eyes and fatigue, they don’t mention it. Sometimes he wishes they would.

 

~~~~~

 

When the darkness comes to this world too, Davenport feels himself collapse inside. When it attacked their plane, they didn’t really see it. They floated above. Watching what happens from the ground is devastating. This thing, this living plane leaves nothing behind. The ferocity with which it descended on the the planet horrifies Davenport and the rest of the crew. 

 

Is this what his family faced? Did opalescent soldiers march into the warren? Did they even make it back there before it attacked? How long did his mother and father fight before being cut down.

 

Davenport doesn’t sleep for four days. The crew finds him collapsed in the kitchen.

 

~~~~~

 

In the end it’s Merle who comes to him after another bought of refusing sleep at the start of the third cycle and says, “You gotta open up about this shit, Dav.”

 

Davenport rubs at his eyes and fixes Merle with a bleary stare. “I’m alright, Merle, but thank you for your concern.”

 

He tries to get up from where he passed out on a common room chair and quickly collapses back into it.

 

“It’s been hard for everyone, Cap’n’port, but you’re the only one not sleeping after two years.”

 

Davenport lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but he knows he has to. The others have all had their moments of consolation in some form or another. Magnus and Lucretia talked about it in whispers on the first cycle while alone on the ship. Taako and Lup had each other. Merle talked about what he’d lost around the middle of last year when he’d revealed the weed he’d snuck onboard. Barry gave up his story in small bursts over meals. Davenport is the only one who hasn’t so much as mentioned his family.

 

“How much do you know about gnome culture?” Davenport latches his hands behind his neck. His tail is draped motionless over the armrest.

 

“Enough,” Merle says. He’s sitting on the edge of the coffee table, feet swinging over the edge.

 

Davenport sighs long and quiet. “I lived with 62 of my family members.” Merle doesn’t say anything. “Gods, Merle. They’re-they’re all gone…

 

“Gnomes all tend to sleep in the same nest. It’s-uh… it’s a room of the warren that’s filled with pillows and blankets and anything else soft someone decides to add.”

 

Davenport shifts so his head is resting on his knees. He doesn’t want to keep talking about this.

 

“So you’re not sleeping because?” Merle says after a minute of quiet.

 

“It’s hard, Merle. I-I miss the warmth… the sound of other people breathing… the subtle movements of fabric whenever someone else shifts positions. It’s… lonely.” Davenport curls his tail in tight around his ankles and glares at the floor as if he could force it to give what he lost back. He’s grateful the rest of the crew is off ship. They don’t deserve to see their captain like this.

 

Merle sighs and hops off the coffee table in exchange for the couch. “Come on, Drew.” Merle pats the couch next to him and waits.

 

Davenport doesn’t want to move. The professional, trained part of him says this is not captain-like behavior. He’s supposed to be the strong one, the one that gives orders when needed and keeps things orderly when not. He is absolutely not supposed to break down into an insomnia spiral during a crisis like this. He’s not supposed to collapse at random intervals of the week because he hasn’t gone to his room in days. He’s not supposed to get up from the armchair to join Merle on the couch. He’s not supposed to lean into his arm around his shoulder and he’s not supposed to be comforted by the touch he hasn’t had in over two years.

 

But he’s tired, and Merle is the medical officer and probably knows what’s best. He shouldn’t let his eyelids droop and he shouldn’t lean into the contact but, some part of it feels more like home than he’s had in a long time.

 

Merle lets Davenport sleep.

 

~~~~~

 

When Davenport wakes up the rest of the crew has made there way to the couch. Taako is draped over the back, hand resting on Lup’s head who is in turn using Barry’s legs as a pillow. Barry’s head is resting on Magnus’s shoulder who is sitting on the floor with his arms resting on the couch, mouth open and snoring. His breath smells vaguely of alcohol and that probably explains how this happened. Lucretia is on Barry’s left. She’s leaning lightly against him, hands curled around a pillow, and face flushed ever so faintly with intoxication. Merle hasn’t moved from his right, but he’s fallen asleep too.

 

It’s soft, warm, and new. Davenport decides he doesn’t mind it. He slips back into the easiest sleep he’s had on the ship to date.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so i made another part to this. Thanks to the taz fic writer discord for the… let's call it motivation (looking at you liches right now)
> 
> Thanks so much for all the kind words on the last part! I honestly didn't expect this thing to get as much attention as it did ^^:

Davenport likes his room on the base. It’s always so warm and soft. The Director gave him piles of blankets and pillows and plushes and let him arrange it himself.

 

Sometimes when Davenport wakes up he’s curled up with Lucretia in her office. She’s never asleep when this happens, but she always gives him a sad sort of smile. He doesn’t know why she’s sad or why she’s never sleeping when he’s with her. She always walks back to his room with him, though so he thinks it’s ok.

 

Sometimes the hazy part of his brain makes him feel like something’s missing but he shakes it away. He doesn’t like dwelling on those thoughts, it makes the world fuzzy and painful to think about. 

 

~~~~~

 

One time the Director called for him. He knew she was calling him but it wasn’t his name and it made his head blaze in agony. He’d screamed his name with his hands clasped over his ears for… he wasn’t sure how long. It was important the Director knew his name, though. Things slipped from his mind so often and so quickly. Sometimes things he just learned slip through his thoughts and there’s nothing he can do about it. Like trying to catch smoke. He needed her to know to remind him if he forgot his name too. He can’t forget his name. It’s… important.

 

Saying his name helps him feel like himself but it’s more than that. His name helps to sooth the itch at the back of his mind that he has to avoid picking at. It makes his heart feel warm and he likes to mumble it as he tries to sleep because it’s like he’s talking to someone. Or many people? He’s not sure. He’s not really aware of who he’s talking to either. His name is Davenport. He doesn’t know anyone else with that name. Who would he be whispering with? No one ever goes in his room but him. It makes him feel more comfortable, though, so it’s fine.

 

~~~~~

 

Davenport likes the evenings. He likes watching the sun set and the sky darken to reveal the map of stars above. The fabric of night sky speckled with sparkling points of light always makes Davenport feel closer to himself. It’s a lot like his name in that way.

 

Davenport likes the mornings too. He likes watching the sun rise over the main green of the base. The dew in grass sparkles like the night sky under the early rays of daylight. Something about it pulls at his heart, just like the tea the Director has him make sometimes does, just like the stars do, just like seeing bureau members playing cards does. Sometimes he likes that pull and searches for it. It feels like coming home after a long, long time away. He’s not sure how he knows this. Sometimes, though, it makes him hole up in his room and mumble his name to himself until his voice is raw. It makes his mind turn to fuzz and his thoughts of the day slip through his grasp, water between his fingers.

 

~~~~~

 

The new reclaimers make his head hurt. Davenport does his job and tries not to think about it, but they make the itch in his mind grow to a steady, dull thudding. But paired with that pain comes a deep feeling of warmth unlike any of the heaters in his room could provide. He wants to crawl towards that warmth and curl up in it, but when he tries the ringing in his ears reaches unbearable levels. He tries to keep interactions with them to a minimum.

 

Sometimes he tries to reach out to them more, pushing through the horrible radio static screaming in his head. Those are good moments up until he collapses at the end of the day under a migraine that no amount of magic will soften.

 

~~~~~

 

Drinking is like being cracked over the head with a hammer followed by being hit by a train. It has Davenport crumpled in a heap on his knees in seconds, clutching at his head in an instinctual attempt to make the skull splitting pain stop. It feels like his brain is going to explode as it’s forced into functioning at a higher capacity than it has in more than a decade.

 

Suddenly his world feels reversed, where there was once never-ending static there are clear, if core-rocking, memories of a life beyond the bureau. In return the few parts of his existence that actually made sense over years impaired feel like a haze has descended over them. His life shifts and oh god he has so much to think about right now. Thoughts shoot like lighting through his mind where there used to be only mist.

 

He forces his eyes open and takes a quick glance around a room that’s more in focus than it had ever been before and the first thing he sees is the darkness. Massive tendrils and horrible, faceless beings of living black opal. He sees the hunger and the first complex emotion he’s felt since his true 61st birthday is fear and betrayal, and it shakes him to his core more than remembering ever could.

 

“L-Lucretia… What have you done?” He looks up at her from his position on the floor. He’d trusted this woman for over one hundred years on the Starblaster and again for another ten when he couldn’t fucking think for himself. How could she- He can feel red hot anger bubbling under his skin and clenches his fits into tight balls. Years of now-remembered training at the IPRE help him to stand up without launching himself at Lucretia. He keeps his tail meticulously straight, anything else and he knows it will start lashing. He can not afford to be anything but pulled together right now.

 

He doesn’t bother listening to her defend herself and barely processes the plights of his crew. He feels guilty for the later but to be fair to himself he has a lot on his mind, more than he’s had in so long. He quickly files most of it away for later. Right now the pressing threat is the Hunger. Everything else can be set aside and dealt with when the fate of the world is not at hand.

 

Davenport does what he’s always done best, and finds a solution. He makes a call. “Lucretia where’s the Starblaster?”

 

~~~~~

 

After the Day of Story and Song Davenport stops sleeping again. Sleeping pulls his mind back to the state it was in when he couldn’t remember. It’s hazy and it’s terrifying and it makes him wake up in a panic.

 

It doesn’t help that he’s remembered he’s gone so long without sleeping next to another living thing. He supposes he found his way to Lucretia every so often, but, he can’t bring himself to think about that right now. He hasn’t talked to her since leaving the base.

 

He knows what that emptiness he felt is and it hurts so much. He’s been living on the Starblaster for the last week, along with the other members of the crew that have nowhere to go yet; meaning everyone but Lucretia, who has taken to distancing herself. He’s ashamed to say he’s thankful for that.

 

He’s in his room, trying his best to at least stay quiet for the sake of the rest of the crew when he hears a knock. He looks up and snaps his fingers to throw up an illusion over his exhausted features. They don’t need to see him like this, who ever it is.

 

“Y-y-yeah?” Davenport opens to door to a very concerned Merle. 

 

Merle looks him up and down and says, “Drop the illusions, Dav.”

 

He complies, letting Merle see the dark bags under bloodshot eyes, his hair that hasn’t been washed in days, the haggard way a person who hasn’t slept’s face gets after a few days. “H-how. H-how did you know.”

 

“I’ve been traveling with a broken Taako for a year. I know a disguise self spell when I see it.”

 

Merle doesn’t move from the doorway, doesn’t come in without being offered. He looks tired too but in a different way.

 

“Did you need something, Merel?” Davenport isn’t ready for a conversation about everything yet. He needs more time. Time to process the memories that don’t make sense yet, time to make sure he won’t explode in rage if he starts talking, time to categorize the new (old?) memories he has rattling in his brain now.

 

“Just wondering if you wanted to come out to sleep in the common room.” Merle has a look in his eyes that tells Davenport he knows more than he’s letting on.

 

Davenport sighs and decides it’s best to just comply. If he doesn’t, whatever Merle has planned will work its way into his room overtime anyways. Better he just give in now.

 

Merle doesn’t need anymore than Davenport’s resigned body language to know he’s won. It wasn’t even a contest. Merle motions with his hand, the one that’s wood now, gods it’s going to take time to get used to that, for Davenport to follow and starts down the hall.

 

Davenport pads after him. He doesn't’ bother to put an illusion back up. What ever’s waiting for him in the common room would just have to face the fact that he hadn’t slept in a while. 

 

That something turns out to be a pile of bodies, chests slowly rising and falling in sleep. They didn’t even bother with the couch, which had been pushed to the wall. It’s just a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the room. Taako and Barry are curled together on Magnus’s left. Lup, unable to join in the fun in her current state is settled in as dormant a state as liches could get in a chair across the room. She waves a bit when he walks in. Merle had already found his place on Magnus’s right. He doesn’t look up. Davenport knows something, or someone, is missing. The part of him that still, and always would, care for her yearns. The rest says this is better. They still need time. He still needs time.

 

Magnus’s eyes open blearily and he looks at Davenport with a slight smile before settling back into sleep. “Come on in, Starport,” he mumbles sleepily. Davenport’s heart sings at the name.

 

He doesn’t hesitate to bring himself over, finding a place where he can use Magnus’s stomach as a pillow. It’s soft, warm, and so so familiar and he knows things will be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, idk how I feel about this chapter? But I really don't feel like doing more editing so….

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come talk to me at: sparkledragons.tumblr.com


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